In Voldemort's Clutches
by Lilith4
Summary: In a war-torn Britain, Hermione is captured by Voldemort. How far will Ron go to save her? Based on "Arrow's Fall" by Mercedes Lackey. R/Hr


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In Voldemort's Clutches

By Lilith

Summary: In a war-torn Britain, Hermione is captured by Lord Voldemort. How far will Ron go to save her? Based on 'Arrow's Fall' by Mercedes Lackey. R/Hr.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer:Harry Potter is not mine, alas, otherwise I would rolling in money. As it is, I cannot afford to buy my father a $20 gift certificate to Barnes and Noble. The storyline here is actually based on one of Mercedes Lackey's books... complete details are at the end of the fic.

"No," said Ron thickly, sitting down hard in the dirt, raising a cloud of dust. "No," he repeated, the lump in his throat growing, and he felt like he was dangerously close to tears. Harry bit his lip, drawing blood, eyes wide, but remaining silent.

"I am truly sorry," said Professor McGonagall sadly, her eyes a little moist. "For this to happen... I'm sorry," she finished helplessly, her hands lying limply by her side. Her jaw was clenched, and she looked very tired.

Harry didn't notice the drop of blood on his lip growing larger. His mind was simply numb. His best friend, besides Ron... how could it have happened?

Hermione Granger had been captured by Death Eaters.

"How?" asked Ron dangerously, from his somewhat awkward position on the stone floor. His voice was trembling slightly, and his blue eyes had turned gray with anger. His voice was quiet, but Harry shivered slightly at the force with which Ron spat out the words. "How did this happen?" Ron's eyes narrowed, fixing McGonagall with his best and coldest glare. Harry looked down at the two arrows lying on the ground, one headless, one broken. The pattern on the headless arrow was Vicktor Krum's code, and the broken arrow's code was Hermione's. Harry choked back a sob as he flashed back to the day he had been taught what those two signs meant.

Professor Dumbledore had stood in front of the entire school, a bundle of arrows at his feet. They were all ringed with different colors. The Professor had looked extremely grim. The other Professors were gathered behind him—Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Trelawney, Professor Sinistra... all of them... with the exception of Professor Snape. They all looked nervous and grim. The students were gathered in front of the slight platform the teachers stood on.

"Good morning," Dumbledore had called, his usually merry voice laced with exhaustion. "I beg your pardon for the early hour, but this is important, so I want all of your attention." The slightly fidgety crowed had gone silent, fixed by Dumbledore's voice and his gaze. "There is a war coming," he had said heavily. "A war which hopefully, you will not have to fight in. However, if you become involved in any way, there is a certain code which every wizard is required to know." Here he had bent over and picked up the bundle of arrows, took out his wand and muttered something. The arrows began to float, and they separated, each floating about two inches away from it's neighbor. "Arrows are ideal for enchanting, so they will be used a great deal in the coming war. It will never be hard to get your hands on some. However, arrows enchanted to carry messages can be intercepted, which is why this simply system has been developed." Dumbledore had pointed to the white arrow. "The white arrow means 'All's well, come ahead'." He had pointed to the next arrow. "Green calls for a Healer, Purple for a Ministry representative, and gray calls for the Minister himself." At saying 'the Minister', Dumbledore's voice had taken on a note of slight anger... not noticeable, really, to someone who hadn't witnessed the scene Fudge had made in the Hospital Wing at the end of Harry's fourth year. Dumbledore had continued, "Brown tells the receiver to watch for a message; there's trouble ahead, not serious, but something that requires elaboration. Blue means 'treachery', yellow calls for military aid." Here, Dumbledore had floated the yellow-ringed arrow higher than the others. "Each band is for one armed unit." He lowered the arrow again, and had pointed to the red arrow. "Red means 'great danger- come with all speed. And... then there's the black arrow." Behind him, McGonagall had flinched visibly, and the other teachers were looking uncomfortable. "Black means that there has been or will be death or catastrophe. If you send a black arrow on which the head has been broken off," he had pointed to the pointy part of the arrow, "The person who's code is on the arrow is dead. If you simply put someone's code on the arrow and leave it intact, it means 'disaster, help or rescue needed'. Break the arrow, send the pieces... that means 'All hope gone. _Do not attempt rescue._" Dumbledore had sighed heavily, then continued. "The broken and headless arrow can actually be of any color. Those are the two we will always understand... and the ones we never want to see."

Harry ran his hand absently through his black hair, staring at the arrows on the floor. No one had touched them since Dean Thomas had walked to the campsite, pale and shaking, and had emptied the cloth bundle he was carrying on the dust at Dumbledore's feet. Everyone had stared at them, and Dumbledore knelt down for a closer look. He had asked that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger be brought to this spot, and that McGonagall tell them what happened. He had then vanished.

"You're not answering me, Professor," Ron spat, and Harry was jerked out of his reverie. Professor McGonagall was twisting her hands together.

"Hermione was scouting out the area for us," she managed. "At Professor Dumbledore's request. He wanted to make sure it was safe, and she's the best scout we've got... Well, apparently, she has been caught. Mr. Thomas was in no state to tell us how he got the arrows." She looked distressed. "Mr. Weasley, I am sorry... but there is no hope."

"No," said Ron quietly, getting to his feet. "_No_," he repeated, his face contorting with fury, fists clenched. His eyes flicked to the left, then to the right... and he bolted towards the forest. Luckily, Seamus was nearby and tackled Ron to the ground. Harry ran up to him.

"Let me go, Seamus!" Ron began to curse so badly that McGonagall winced. "I've got to save her!" Seamus didn't budge.

"Ron, _think_!" Harry bellowed. "That's the broken arrow she's sent! She was as good as dead when she sent it, and she _knew _it!" A tear fell from Harry's eye and landed on Ron's cheek. Ron brushed it away, the crazed look still in his eyes. "Ron, she sent that so you wouldn't go charging off and get yourself killed!" At this, Ron broke. He simply went limp and began sobbing into the dust, and Seamus carefully got up off his friend. Harry knelt down and patted Ron's shoulder awkwardly, tears streaming silently down his own cheeks. Seamus wandered away, leaving them to express their grief alone.

Later, after Harry had pulled himself together and gotten himself and Ron back to their tents, he lay staring at the ceiling. He tried to remember Hermione as he knew her for so long: Cheerful, studious, kind, sarcastic... He pictured her the first time he had seen her, in the Hogwarts Express. How young she looked, he thought at his memory. Surely it couldn't have been that long ago? But it had been... they'd been only eleven. And now... now their faces had been hardened by fighting and hiding... Harry sighed, and turned over, closing his eyes. He needed to sleep.

Ron did not need to sleep. He was sitting in his tent, knees pulled to his chest, and was rocking back and forth, eyes wide and unseeing. He was obviously deep in thought. He suddenly got up and left the tent, wand in hand. He walked purposefully over to his sister Ginny's tent. She was Hermione's best friend, besides him and Harry. She would help him.

"Ginny?" he asked quietly. "Are you awake?" There was a rustling from inside the tent, and Ginny poked her head out. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and there were dark circles under her eyes. The few freckles she had left had gone pale, and her dark red hair was plastered to her skull on one side of her head and stuck up wildly on the other.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"I need you help with something," he said quietly. "I think I can save Hermione." Ginny's eyes widened, and her head withdrew. "I'll be right out." Fred and George emerged from her tent, both looking grim.

"We just went to cheer her up," said Fred. "But it looks like now we'll be helping you too."

"You... you'll really help me?" asked Ron weakly. George snorted.

"You stupid git, we're your brothers! Of course we'll help!" George looked at Ron, slightly sad. "Besides, we'll get to help you save your girl. We'll be able to tease you for months about this, at least." Ron gave a small, trembley smile, and Ginny popped out of the tent, fully dressed.

"Who's tent are we going to do this in?"

"Mine," answered George. "It's near the edge of camp, and I don't live with anyone anymore." A sudden wave of sadness passed over his face, but the grim determination was back so soon Ron wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it. Of course, Ron knew what had happened with Alicia... how Voldemort had killed her and dumped her mangled body back into George's tent...

"Ron!" Ginny hissed. He started. "Are you coming?" He nodded quickly, and followed George to his brother's tent. Once there, they all crowded inside, and Ron took out his wand.

"I think I may be able to 'Fetch' her," he said, voice trembling. 'Fetching' was the process of using one's mind, combined with the power of their wand, to move an object without touching it. In Hermione's case, she would be yanked from wherever she was and deposited inside Ron's tent, as though she had Apparated.

"Can you?" asked Ginny. "It's an awfully long way."

"I know. That doesn't matter. It isn't the distance that worries me, it's the weight. I've never Fetched anything that big before... nothing even close to that size." His face contorted with the pain he was feeling in his heart. "But I've got to try—something, anything!"

"Alright," said Ginny, biting her lip. "But Alicia--" Her voice broke. "Alicia isn't here to See for you—no, wait—" she said, resting her hands lightly on Ron's wrists. "I can See. I'm not trained, but I've got the Gift, and I've got more range than anyone I've talked to. Will I do?"

"Ginny... oh, Ginny, yes!" Ron hugged her quickly, then leaned back. She replaced her hands gently on his wrists, and closed her eyes. Everyone waited with bated breath. 

"Seeing" is a skill which few have. It involves the invoking of a simple spell, which allows the person to see anywhere in the world as though they were right there. Suddenly, Ginny's hands closed convulsively around Ron's wrists.

"I've found her—Oh, God! Ron, they've done such horrible things to her! I—I think I'm going to be sick—"

"Hold on, Ginny! I need you, _she _needs you!" Ginny swallowed hard, and held. Ron used her mind to track where his target was, pulled with all his strength... and passed out. He awoke to the smell of a Dungbomb under his nose. "Pffft!" he gagged, sitting up.

"Oh God Ron, I thought you were dead! You just... stopped breathing all of a sudden—" She shivered, and Fred pulled the Dungbomb out from under Ron's nose. "It's no use, is it?" she asked tearfully. Ron shook his head, numbness spreading through his entire body.

"I tried... God, I tried, but I'm not strong enough alone..." Tears splashed down his cheeks.

"Here now," said George gruffly, "None of that. We'll help you Ron. Draw strength from us." The twins placed their wands on the floor, tips touching Ron's and Ginny's, and kept their grip on the ends of their wands. Ron nodded, and Ginny closed her eyes. She managed to find Hermione very quickly, and Ron followed. He pulled with all his might, using the combined strength of his twin brothers... but it wasn't enough. He blacked out again.

The dungbomb under his nose woke him again, and he sat up groggily, blinking.

"It's no good," sobbed Ginny, and Ron felt his wet cheeks go cold. Even together, they hadn't been strong enough... and he couldn't ask anyone else to risk their lives trying to save Hermione. He looked at the twins, who were both extremely pale.

"Ron." Everyone turned to the entrance, where a slender hand beckoned from outside. Fred poked his head out, then got up and left, motioning for the others to follow. When they emerged from the tent... Ron's eyes fell upon Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Phoebe Bell, Katie's younger sister. They stood in a triangular position, Angelina in front with Katie and Phoebe flanking her, about a step behind her. And behind them...

Hundreds of owls. Snowy, barn, screech... Ron even spotted Pig and Hedwig in the mass. They had landed on anything that could hold them. They blinked, clicked their beaks and shuffled slightly, but they all stared down at the scene below.

"Ron, we know what you're doing," said Angelina, her eyes completely white. No iris, no pupil... just white. "I felt it." She stepped forwards, and touched his chest with her forefinger, pointing to his heart. "You have the Gift and the will to use it. She has the sight. We have the strength you need." Wordlessly, Fred and George walked to them, and stood behind Katie and Phoebe.

"I—but—are you saying—"

"That we may yet save her, if our love and courage are enough. But—be prepared—if we succeed, it will not be without high cost to you. There will be great pain. You may die of it." Ron looked at Ginny, who was pale yet resolved. She nodded at him, slightly, and he turned to Fred and George. They nodded slightly.

"Whatever the cost is, we'll pay it," said Ron. Angelina walked over, and stood next to him. She positioned Ginny across from Ron, and pressed their palms together. Katie took George by the arm, Phoebe took Fred, and the two girls positioned the twins across from each other, and next to Ginny and Ron. Finally, the three girls joined them, so they formed a circle: Ron, George, Katie, Ginny, Phoebe, Fred, and Angelina. The owls silently moved so that they were in a vague circle, perched in the trees. Angelina, Katie, Phoebe, Fred and George pulled their wands out and held them under Ron and Ginny's hands, the tips touching. Ginny closed her eyes, and found her target, much more quickly than the first or second time.

"Ron, I have her," she said softly when she'd touched Hermione again, then sobbed, "Ron—I think she's dying!" Ron felt for his target, reached, and _pulled_...

For a moment he thought he was going to pass out... then a strength was added to his, a strength that felt like family... then another one, a sweet, kind one... then a strong, hard one... then a strength so old and so powerful he marveled that this was Angelina. Then he simply _pulled_, and felt tiny bursts of strength coming to him from... the _owls_!?

Each owl in the clearing's eyes flashed a bright green, which was reflected in the light growing from the touching tips of the wands. It was a dim white, then flashed green, the white grew stronger, flashed green... their power was building and building...

And Ron _pulled..._

Their combined strength was enough. Barely, but enough.

The Professors were seated in their extremely large and luxurious tent when the flap was kicked in and someone screamed in horror.

Ginny staggered in, pushing people out of her way... and behind her walked Ron, holding a bloody mangled mess that had Hermione's face. Ginny politely shoved Professors Trelawney, Sinistra and Vector off the couch. Ron walked to the couch and put Hermione on it carefully. Without looking, he grabbed Madam Pomfrey's hand and pulled her to Hermione's side. Then he straightened up with exaggerated care, moved two or three steps out of the way, and passed out, dropping to the ground like a felled tree.

When the uproar had died down a bit, Professor McGonagall discovered that Ginny had done the same, but less dramatically and more quietly, in a corner.

Professor Dumbledore surveyed the scene, with Professor McGonagall at his side. 

Angelina Johnson, Katie and Phoebe Bell, Fred and George Weasley, and about a hundred owls all lay passed out in various places around the clearing. Other ex-Hogwarts students scurried around the clearing, conjuring stretchers and lifting the felled rescuers onto them. The owls were carefully rejuvenated with a simple spell. When an owl woke up it stood up, shook itself, then took off tiredly for the owlry where they could get some sleep and food. 

'_Too bad we can't get any information from the owls_,' thought Dumbledore wryly. '_It would save those poor people having to deal with some very odd rumors when they wake up_.'

"Well, Albus?" Professor MsGonagall asked, kneeling to examine the scorch marks on the ground. "Do you have any idea how they pulled that rescue off?" She stood up and looked curiously at her longtime friend. He shook his head slowly.

"I have many ideas," he said wryly, his tone echoing his earlier thoughts. "However, I do not wish to share them, as they are all highly unlikely and you would think me mad." 

"Try me, Albus. I've seen these children pull off more impossible stunts than I care to count."

"They ran to Voldemort's hideout, killed all of the Death Eaters, grabbed Hermione, and ran back, killing Voldemort on the way," replied Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall gave an uncharacteristic snort.

"Mad," she said to him. "Don't we wish it were true, though." Dumbledore nodded absently, obviously thinking up more unlikely rescue ideas.

Ron awoke to nothing but pain. His head felt as though it was going to split in half, and he was completely blinded by the headache. Madam Pomfrey's teas and potions did nothing for him, so he simply had to bear it.

Ginny's recovery was more rapid, fortunately for the sanity of those who wondered how the impossible rescue was accomplished. She had been through the story so many times that she had actually threatened Professor Trelawney with her breakfast fork. The story was spread, people got the message she did not want be hounded about the rescue, and went to ask the recovering other five what had happened.

Ron was getting annoyed. His headaches had stopped almost completely, but there was something else on his mind. No one would tell him Hermione's condition. One day, after Madam Pomfrey and her damned nurses decided they could leave him alone for a good two hours without checking on him, he got dressed and slipped down the hallway, looking for Hermione. As luck would have it, he bumped right into Madam Pomfrey. Instead of sending him back to bed, she gently took his arm and lead him to a thick door and opened it. Inside lay Hermione, pale as a ghost. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow.

"She won't wake," said Madam Pomfrey quietly. "We've tried everything... there's painblocks on all her major wounds, we're in the process of reconstructing the bones in her legs, we've restored some of the blood loss, and we've counteracted the poison in time—"

"_Poison_?" Ron barked at the woman. "What poison?" Madam Pomfrey sighed. 

"She'd taken about ten kilograms of arsenic." At Ron's blank look, she added "It's a very potent Muggle poison. There really is no wizard equivalent, it's deadly, and allows no room for mistakes." Ron nodded, and Madam Pomfrey continued. "We don't think the Death Eaters poisoned her, she was too valuable. I suspect she got it from the outside—perhaps the same way she got the arrows to us—and took it to prevent Lord Voldemort from learning anything crucial, or simply to stop the pain." 

"But why won't she wake?" asked Ron, biting his lip.

"I don't know. It's like trying to wake the dead... if, of course, the dead had perfect reflexes, a beating heart, and a fully active stomach." Madam Pomfrey tsked. "It's as though no one is home—like her soul's gone somewhere else. Harry was in here the other day, just sitting with her and trying to get her to come back, but it was no use." Madam Pomfrey bit her lip in thought. "Unless..." Ron pounced on the opportunity.

"Unless?" He asked eagerly.

"Well, you might not know this, but Hermione was extremely good with empathetic spells. Some say she had a touch of empathy. If someone with a strong emotional bond were to call her, she might hear them. Vicktor Krum had a strong emotional bond, but, well..."

"Yes." Ron lowered his head, and mumbled, "Could... I try?"

Madam Pomfrey nearly smiled, despite the grave situation. _Come on, little fishy, _she thought. _Take the nice bait. I know all about your little performance over her arrow, and I know you love her. But if you don't admit it, you might as well be calling into a hurricane for all she'll hear you._

She pretended to be dubious. "I don't know, Ron. Harry was in here the other day and she didn't respond to him, so friendship obviously isn't enough..." Finally, the answer she had hoped for came in the form of a low throaty whisper from Ron's lips.

"I love her. Is that enough?" Madam Pomfrey nearly crowed with delight.

"By all means, go ahead. I'll across the hall if you need me," she said, pointing to an open door across from Hermione's. Ron nodded and went in. Madam Pomfrey looked around to make sure no one was looking, then leaned up against the door to eavesdrop.

Ron walked over to Hermione's bed. What Madam Pomfrey said haunted him, she truly did look like some shell that her soul had cast aside. He didn't dare look at her legs, from what he remembered, they had been smashed and bloodied beyond belief. Ron sat down by the bed, and took her hand gently in his. _Hermione_? He thought, trying to project his love and worry for her, so she would come back to him... 

__

Hermione, come back, please? I miss you. Come on, don't _make me have gone through all those headaches for nothing! That is so like you, Hermione. Make me deal with a splitting headache for three days so you can go and die on me. Wonderfully, typically Hermione. And you'd do it, too, wouldn't you. Just to spite me. Well, Hermione, you're not getting off that easy. You are going to come out of this if I have to sweat blood, because you know what, I love you, you mental sack of nerves. _Honestly_, you'd think you'd have the decency to at least wake up, instead of just lying there drooling! Yes, don't think I can't see that! And furthermore, if you die on me, Hermione, I'll... I'll... I'll call you Hermy-own for the rest of your life! And in the Afterlife, if we end up in the same place, or if there is one. How's that! Hah! God, Hermione, come _on_... how are we supposed to win a war without you? The best scout we have? Come on, you're going to wake up, you're going to wake up... you're doing this just to spite me, aren't you. You're just sitting there grinning in your head, thinking "Look at that stupid git, prattling on about absolutely nothing, trying to make me come back!" Well, I'll tell you, Hermione Granger..._

Hermione was lost in darkness. She remembered what had happened in Voldemort's castle, and cringed. She wandered the dark pathways, trying to find some hint of light, or hope, but there was nothing. She wondered if she was dead. 

Hermione was lost in darkness. She was getting tired, plodding on, trying to find something, anything... when she felt a warmth come over her, and Vicktor was standing in front of her, looking as he had before the Death Eaters...

"Herm-own-ninny, I do not have much time. You need to go back. You can not come here yet." _Hermione blinked at him, and ran to hug him._

"Vicktor!" she cried. "No, I want to go with you—"

"No, you do not," he said, amused. "I can see vat you vant, Herm-own-ninny. You vant me back, but you truly vant... Ron Veasley." _Hermione blushed._

"You promised you wouldn't tease me about that!" she said, half distressed, half amused. "Vicktor, you're one of my best friends, please come back..."

"You haff Harry Potter and Ron," he said, shaking his head. "I cannot come back, even if I vanted to. It vas my time, Herm-own-ninny. You must turn around. Can you not hear him calling you?" _Hermione stayed silent, and listened hard._

"I love you, you mental sack of nerves. Honestly, you'd think you'd have the decency to at least wake up, instead of just lying there drooling! Yes, don't think I can't see that!" _Hermione gasped._

"It's Ron! Calling me!"

"Yah," said Vicktor. "Go to him, Herm-own-ninny. And please tell my parents I love them very much." _Vicktor gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and turned her around. She suddenly found herself on a path, and with every step, she felt her identity return, making her who she was. She also began to feel pulled by something... some bond, a very strong emotional tie to someone..._

"You're just sitting there grinning in your head, thinking "Look at that stupid git, prattling on about absolutely nothing, trying to make me come back!" _Hermione listened to Ron calling her as she walked towards herself, his voice growing louder and more desperate as he called to her, projecting his love and worry and annoyance with her for staying asleep. Hermione finally reached her Center... the place that made her Her. She closed her eyes, and stepped into it..._

Ron started at the groan coming from the bed. He shot up so quickly the stool was knocked back into the wall, and Ron clutched Hermione's hand close to his heart.

"Hermione?" he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, and her mouth opened... she was obviously trying to say something. Ron leaned in close, so close that he could feel her light feathery breath on his cheek. Her voice simply wouldn't work, and she nearly screamed in frustration. Ron straightened, and looked around, suddenly panicked.

"I'll... I'll get Madam Pomfrey..." he said, fumbling with her hand. He was trying to unlace their fingers, but neither his or hers were cooperating. "I... you probably want to be alone... you know, because of—" he stopped, then spat out the word—"_Vicktor_..." Hermione frowned, and managed a noise that Ron took as an affirmative. His heart sank. "I'll just go then, shall I," he said, trying to pull their fingers apart. She coughed, then spoke.

"Ron..." she croaked. "I heard you... _thinking_..." He froze, eyes widened. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Really, Ron..." she continued, in a voice slightly metallic sounding with disuse, "I'm not really all that bad, am I?" Ron gave a strangled cry, leaned over, and kissed her, right on the mouth.

Madam Pomfrey, outside, heard a cry that sounded like Ron and opened the door, fearing the worst. Instead of a weeping Ron and a paler Hermione, she saw Ron bent down, his mouth over Hermione's. Her eyes widening in relief and surprise, she quietly let herself out of the room. _I think I'd better inform Albus that Hermione's back with us, _she thought dryly, and headed off down the corridor. She'd make a lot of noise coming back, so they could break apart before they embarrassed themselves.

Ron pulled away from Hermione, his lips tingling from her kiss. At first she had been too surprised to do anything, but then he felt a slight pressure on his lips, and she was kissing him back.

"You taste like strawberries," he whispered to her, stroking her hand gently. The touch of his fingers on her hand made her shiver, and she reached up to push a lock of spiky red hair out of his eyes. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. When the huge party of overjoyed friends and Professors burst into the room, they simply smiled and stayed silent about their newfound feelings... or at least, the feelings that they'd taken such a long time to express.

Harry stayed after everyone had left. Hermione's hand was still linked with Ron's, a detail Harry had not missed. He looked at the two, and smiled to himself, thinking that this wasn't quite how he'd planned getting them together, but it had worked just as well as locking them both in a small space for a long period of time together.

"So," said Harry, "Are you going to tell me what happened in here and how you woke up?" Hermione blushed, Ron's ears went pink, and Harry shook his head, amazed. "I have never met two people more oblivious. Hermione, did you know that Ron's been completely in love with you since Fourth Year?" Ron looked at his friend, outraged, mouth open to say something rude.

"Well, yes, that was about the time I fell for him," Hermione shot in smoothly. "Of course, we both didn't know it at the time... I have to say though, Ron, I feel like a moron for not figuring all this out earlier. It took Vicktor months to get me to admit it to him." She glanced at Harry. "I didn't think I had to tell you," she said, slightly apologetic. "I was never paired with you..."

"It's okay," said Harry, grinning. "I figured it out on my own, thanks." 

"Why didn't anyone think to tell me this?" Ron moaned. "All this time, I thought you were in love with Vicktor!"

"Vicktor!" said Hermione, surprised. "Oh, no, not at all... he was a very close friend... but nothing like you two," she said. "He was just very... flattering. And now..." Memories began to hit her as she remembered Vicktor's death... her torture... Hermione closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Haryy walked to the other side of the bed and took her other hand in his, and let her get out what had happened to her.

"We were in the forest," she began quietly, "When the fire started. At first I thought it was an illusion, but then Vicktor's robes caught on fire, so we jumped up and ran, leaving all our things behind. Turns out, it really was an illusion... they'd used it to smoke us out of hiding. The flame on Vicktor's robe was a spell that hit him, we never heard it because of the roaring of the flames." She took a deep breath. "They killed Vicktor... burned him to a crisp. His skeleton was all that was left, and it turned to ash when I touched it..." She gave a sob, and lowered her head. "They broke my legs," she whispered tonelessly. "By that time, I couldn't even scream anymore. They just crushed them, using magic... they whipped me... I can't even remember anything but the pain. It was horrible... I just remember Madam Malkin, saving me."

"Madam Malkin?" Ron asked, surprised. "The robes-maker?"

"The one and only. I'd saved her life a while back, and she was in life-debt to me. I made her bring me the arrows, and the poison. I told her to give the bundle to someone who was in this camp... then I drank the poison. And then... I sort of left for a while." She wiped her eyes on the sheets. "I just sort of wandered in the darkness. The, I heard Ron calling me... and I was able to find my way." She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand. Harry squeezed hers, and kissed her on the cheek.

"I've got to go," he said. "I'm sorry, it's just... really, really tired. I'll come visit first thing in the morning," he told Hermione. She nodded, and as he said goodnight to Ron, realized what his real purpose was...

After Harry left the room, Ron turned back to Hermione.

"I think I know why he's so tired all of a sudden," Ron said to his beloved. Hermione laughed a little and nodded.

"I think I do too." And as Ron leaned in to kiss her, Hermione was glad she hadn't told them about Vicktor showing her how to get home. It made sense, though... he was the one who had mad her realize what her feelings for Ron were in the first place, it only made sense that he would make her realize how to get home. As Ron's lips touched hers, she said her own good-bye to Vicktor Krum in her head, promising to never forget him... and promising to fulfill his final wish. With that small acknowledgment in her head, she turned her attention to Ron... and for a moment, everything that had happened to her didn't matter anymore... he was there with her now, and he was never going to leave. That was all that mattered.

Nothing else.

FIN

A/N:This story is based on a book, Arrow's Fall by Mercedes Lackey. The rescue that is performed here is originally performed by Dirk, Elspeth, Rolan, Ahrodie and Gwena in Mercedes Lackey's book. You should all go read them... excellent books. The series starts with Arrows of the Queen, and ends with Arrow's Fall, which is the third book. You go read. In case you want to know, Dirk=Ron, Elspeth=Ginny, Talia=Hermione, Rolan=Angelina, Ahrodie=Fred/George, Gwena=Katie/Phoebe, Kris=Vicktor (please don't shoot me for that one! I *know* Kris is drop-dead gorgeous, and Krum is... well... not. But I couldn't think of anyone else with whom Hermione had a close emotional bond to that I could kill off. And I am *not* killing Harry, no matter how much you hate him, Anya.)

--Lilith the insane and sleep-deprived one

(aka 'That scary chick who burns things')


End file.
